Distress for Christmas
by Sir Sebastian
Summary: It's Christmas in the Possible house, and Jim and Tim learn the hard way that playing with fire will get you burned. My entry for Zaratan's December Challenge. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **This is my entry for Zaratan's December Challenge (even though it's still November).

I'd like to thank cpneb for the quick beta.**  
**

**Disclaimer:** Characters used and abused in this fic are the product and property of people way smarter - and cooler - than I. I have my way with them for my own twisted amusement - and hopefully yours.

Kim Possible © Disney

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**Distress for Christmas**

_a Christmassy Kim Possible fanfic, by Sir Sebastian_

≈O≈

It was a clear Christmas Day. The ground was white with pure snow, the temperature being just right for making snowmen - or snowballs.

With a grunt, little six-year-old Kimberly Ann Possible hefted the final ball of snow on top, finishing her snowman. She admired her creation with a sense of accomplishment. Soon, she began putting on the final touches. Little did she know that she was being watched.

The pure white snow formed into a weapon of mass mischief in the hands of one Ron Stoppable. Expertly he felt out the weight and studied the balance of the beautifully crafted snowball. Once he was satisfied he lifted the ball towards the heavens and said a silent prayer: "Oh, spirit of Snowman Hank, I am your most humble disciple. Guide my hand and let my aim be true."

Hidden in the shadow cast by a corner of the Possible manor, he took the time to aim, feeling out the winds. His window of opportunity narrowed as the target began looking around, searching for her missing friend.

"Ronnie, where did you go?" she called out.

_Now._

The ball flew through the air with perfect aim, catching Kim in the back of the head, knocking off her hat and knocking her to the ground on her face.

"Yes!" Ron celebrated his perfect hit. He had to cut his jubilation short, on the count of the steaming redhead barreling down on him.

"I'm going to get you, Ronnie!" she fumed.

All the joy he had experienced, was replaced with utter fear as Ron shot out the yard, living hellfire hot on his heels. In frenzied effort to lose his flaming tail, he rocketed down the street, weaving around trees and parked cars, desperately hoping his clumsiness didn't present itself before he was safely behind closed doors.

He made it to his own yard before he plummeted to the ground with Kim weighing on his back. He managed to turn around, but was pinned down securely despite his valiant struggles.

"That was a dirty trick," Kim said angrily.

"So whatcha gonna do about it?" Ron asked fearing the worst. And that was exactly what he got. It was the stuff of nightmares. Kim kissed him! On the lips!

"Gaah!" came Ron's horrified gasp, and he finally managed to get from under the spitfire of a girl. He ran screaming into the house.

≈O≈

"Eeewww," came the horrified exclamations of the Tweebs as Ron finished his story. "That was nasty."

The Possible house was an uncharacteristic seat of peace as Jim and Tim sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, hanging on every word of Ron's story. The storyteller himself sat in an easy chair, positioned near the fireplace, allowing its occupants to bask in the gentle radiant heat. The other subject of his story sat in his lap, her arm wrapped around his shoulders as her fingers played lazily with his hair. From time to time she nuzzled his neck, planting surreptitious kisses (much to the displeasure of the male Possibles), disrupting his concentration.

"Oh, it was horrible," Ron assured them. "I must have used an entire bottle of mouthwash."

"If that's how you feel, see if I'll ever do it again," Kim groused, stopping her affectionate activities.

"Oh, you'll do it and you'll _like_ it," Ron said confidently.

"Make me," she shot back defiantly.

"I don't make monkeys, I lead 'em."

"Okay, that's it Stoppable." Kim put Ron in headlock and dragged him out of the chair.

Across the room, Mr. Possible glanced up from his paper. "Need a hand there, Kimmie-cub?" he asked with a touch too much eagerness in his voice.

"I think I'll manage," she answered.

Ron reached back and looped his arms around Kim's midsection. Before she knew it, she was hanging upside down in her boyfriend's grip. A sharp tug at his ankles and both of them toppled on the floor, ensuing in a wrestling match.

"Go, Ron, you can take her!" the twins cheered him on.

After only a minute, the sweaty encounter ended predictably with Kim on top, holding Ron down.

"I have you at my mercy, Ron Stoppable," she gloated playfully. The victorious glee in her eyes was enchanced by the reflected flicker of flames. That view alone was enough for Ron to let her win. You heard right: he **let** her win. Um.. Let's move on, shall we?

"So whatcha gonna do about it," Ron asked fearing the worst. And that was exactly what he got. It was the stuff of nightmares. Kim kissed him! On the lips! With her dad in the room!

"Eeww," the twins exclaimed. The horror of hearing it in a story didn't even begin to compare with seeing it with your own two - or in this case, four - eyes. They escaped the grisly display and ran upstairs.

And right on cue, Mr. Dr. Possible looked down on the floored couple, clearing his throat. "Why don't you two go outside and cool off," he said imbuing his voice with subtle menace.

"Sure, Mr. Dr. P," Ron said nervously. Kim groaned in disappointment, but nevertheless got up. The two teens went to get dressed.

Once outside, Ron was already planning the ultimate snowman.

"I'll begin rolling the bottom section that way, you start on the middle section down that way and we'll meet here."

Kim had other plans. Being well prepared, she pulled out a sprig of mistletoe from her pocket and stepped behind Ron, dangling the Christmas decoration most often used as an excuse to suck face, above them.

Ron turned around and immediately noticed the dangling license to kiss.

"Pucker up, snowboy," Kim grinned.

"What about your Dad?" Ron asked nervously, glancing at the kitchen window where he saw the Possible patriarch sipping his eggnog.

"What's he gonna do? It's tradition."

One look at her balmed lips persuaded him. "Well, I've always been about tradition."

Kim smiled and engaged in a warming yuletide snog with her BF.

Kim's father watched them from the window. His wife noticed his glare and said: "Can't do anything about it; they have mistletoe."

"That boy needs a good dose of mistle_foot_," Mr. Possible muttered.

Before Mrs. Possible had a chance to reprimand her husband, the display causing his disapproval ended with a well-aimed snowball.

"Hoo-sha!"

Cringing from the snow travelling down their collars, Kim and Ron separated with snow-covered faces.

"Tweebs!" Kim screamed.

"Hicka-bicka-boo?" "Hoo-sh_**aaaahh!**_" The twins bolted at the sight of their sister barreling down on them. They rounded the corner of the house, running as fast their feet could carry them.

Ron strolled casually to the opposite end of the house and leaned on the wall. It wasn't long until the hurried footsteps reached his ears. A well-timed foot extension sent Jim and Tim tumbling on the ground, their faces buried in the snow.

The scene that followed was like straight out of a nature documentary. With a leap akin to a hunting lion, Kim pounced on the two helpless cubs their mother was unable to protect, her red mane flailing in the air, complete with the blood curdling feral growl.

_Farewell Jim and Tim. We hardly knew ye_, Ron lamented the untimely, yet certain demise of the younglings.

The twin terrors wriggled uselessly in Kim's grasp as she turned them over and pinned them down.

"Hey, let us go!" "Or we'll tell Dad!"

"By then it'll already be too late," Kim said, grinning malevolently.

The twins gulped.

Ron strolled over and pulled out his cell phone, aiming the built-in camera at them. He captured Kim's merciless revenge in all its cruelty.

≈O≈

"Don't you think you were a little harsh?" Ron asked, looking at the picture he'd taken with a cringe of sympathy.

"No. They got what they deserved," Kim said without even a smidge of remorse.

Ron didn't entirely agree, but wisely kept it to himself. "Well, I'll tell you one thing: they won't go near mistletoe for long time."

Taking one last glance at the picture of Jim and Tim with their lips pressed together in a _very_ involuntary kiss, a piece of mistletoe placed in front of them in the snow, Ron put away the phone. He took pity on them, but they had to learn: if you keep poking the bear, you **will** get mauled.

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**_THE END_**


End file.
